How Stella Got Her Groove Back
by Keiretsu
Summary: Why should Noctis and his boy band get all the fun? Stella embarks on a road trip of her own with some of Final Fantasy's greatest personalities along for the ride. A satire of video game culture.


**Chapter 1**

Stella was a girl, and because of that, she was excluded from this decade's hottest road trip. While Noctis and all his friends were driving around partying it up, she was stuck at her palatial home tattering her Gucci clothes and disheveling her conditioned hair all in preparation for her debut as FFXV's damsel in distress. But she didn't _want_ to be the object of male heroism! If her daddy hadn't bet the farm in that rigged poker match to some weird pope-looking guy, none of this would've ever happened.

But that was neither here nor there anymore. After 9 years and counting, she learned to just let that stuff go. With a sigh, Stella ripped off one of her sequined sleeves and reached for a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. She had a part to rehearse for, after all. Not that she could understand Shakespeare. What was up with all those thous and thys? Couldn't those people speak _normal_ Japanese?! What a drag.

"O Romeo, wherefore art thou?" Stella recited, but she just wasn't feeling it. With another sigh, she clapped her book shut and chucked it over her shoulder. Kicking up her stiletto-clad feet, she leaned back and twirled one of her split ends while blankly staring at the ceiling. It was then that a knock came at the door.

"Stella, girl, I got your Sugar Frosted Sugar O's, honey," said Mrs. Katzroy, the stereotypically black maid (because, you know, Square are _experts_ on casting black people). Another victim of a man's gambling debt, she was forced into indentured servitude after her husband lost big time at the chocobo races. She's been dead to everyone ever since.

Mrs. Katzroy set the bowl of sugar and artificial mystery chemicals down in front of Stella, who promptly sat up like a lady in her seat.

"How many more bowls of this gunk do I have to eat?" she said while tying a napkin around her neck so as not to soil her carefully crafted tattered dress.

"Just five more 'til the tests, honey," the maid replied. "The boys back at the lab'll check your blood sugar afterwards so they can determine if you'll be a hyperactive archetype or the calm and poised type."

"If I'm hyper, can I stop playing the damsel? I've never seen a hyper princess before," Stella said through a mouthful of sugared milk.

Mrs. Katzroy let out a hearty laugh. "Ha, no honey! They'll just script it in as a split personality or speech impediment. It'll make you look more hopeless, and therefore, more attractive." She then leaned forward towards Stella's dresser mirror to fluff her afro and stick a comb in it for good measure.

"And here I thought they couldn't possibly degrade my character anymore…"

"Honey, please! Did you see that last girl to come before you?" Mrs. Katzroy put her hand over her heart as if she were about to have a coronary at the mere thought of FFXIII. "That girl not only had multiple personality disorder, but she was made like a Prada model on the catwalk parading around in all those funny clothes!"

"At least some of them were remotely stylish," Stella offered up as a consolation, even though she didn't whole-heartedly believe it. It was more of a hopeful wish that she wouldn't be made to put on fifty different outfits made from whole moogles and chocobo eyelashes.

"Child, you just be thanking your lucky stars that all you've gotta do is dance at a party, get roughed up and kidnapped, and then maybe inherit a kingdom or two." Mrs. Katzroy collected Stella's emptied cereal bowl and muttered, "It's not like you gotta worry about losing your baby boy or nothin'."

What should've made her feel better, like it had for almost nine years, actually made Stella blow a gasket. "I can't believe we're being treated like this!" she snapped. Pushing away from her dresser and nearly toppling over the very shocked Mrs. Katzroy, Stella stormed into her closet (which made up the entire next door suite) and tore off her threadbare dress sending sequins flying in every direction.

"Stella, girl, what are you doing?" Mrs. Katzroy rushed into the next room, the silver spoon clacking against the cereal bowl.

"I'm putting my foot down!" said the disgusted damsel. Dressing herself in a turtleneck sweater, relaxed-fit jeans, and throwing around her neck the scarf that Mrs. Katzroy had knitted her for Christmas, Stella ditched the ragged look for something more comfortable and sensible. "It's time for the girls to fight back!"

"Honey, you know we can't fight unless we show 80% cleavage!"

"Not anymore." Stella reached for a pair of black sunglasses, and with attitude, put them over her eyes. "I'm going on a road trip, Mrs. Katzroy, and you're coming too!"

Before the flabbergasted maid could object, Stella grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the hallway. The cereal bowl went flying in the chaos, ironically hitting the lone guard on patrol upside the head and knocking him out cold. The two ladies made their way to the servant's entrance where they were able to make their unimpeded escape.

Outside the property line, long past the main gate and surveillance cameras, the highway ran as far as the eye could see. On foot, it would take hours to get to the nearest car rental place, so Stella opted for Option 2. Moseying on up to the curb, she noticed that some guy had parallel parked in a towing zone. Figuring she was doing both the traffic cops and the taxpayers a favor, Stella hopped into the topless convertible and hotwired the car using the technique Mrs. Katzroy had shown her.

"Hop in, Mrs. Katzroy!" Stella said as she revved up the engine. The 1958 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz pink convertible purred like a kitten and was raring to go.

"Girl, I can_not_ believe you paid attention in class!" Mrs. Katzroy said with mixed pride and awe. With a firm yank, she tore off her white apron and jumped into the passenger's seat.

Stella put the car in gear and floored it. The wind blew through her disheveled hair, magically straightening it in the process. As the pink convertible raced down the long stretch of highway, the white apron was left to the mercy of the wind and the two women filled the air with a laughter that echoed into the distance. This was going to be the best road trip ever.


End file.
